


The Tale Of The Two Sherlocks

by afteriwake



Series: The Family Business [1]
Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins with a letter from Joan to the Sherlock Holmes based in London, where she asks him to intervene with his cousin, the Sherlock Holmes in New York, before he does something stupid. But when a case gets thrown into the mix, will two brilliant consultants be able to solve the case, or is New York City simply not big enough to handle their enormous egos?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An entry for the Afterglow Fest at sherlockmas on Livejournal, answering the prompt "BBC!Sherlock and Elementary!Sherlock are related (brothers, cousins, etc.). They meet up; John and Joan get to commiserate over their mad geniuses together." Set post-"The Reichenbach Fall" for Sherlock and goes AU after "The Red Team" for Elementary.
> 
> To make it less confusing (as was pointed out five chapters in, I refered to both Sherlocks as Sherlock, which is a bit confusing), BBC!Sherlock is now Sherlock and Elementary!Sherlock is referred to as Holmes throughout the story, though both characters are referred to as Sherlock by their respective friends.

“So, you’re telling me you have a cousin with the same name who does the same thing you do, except he’s in New York?” John asked as he looked up from the letter Sherlock had handed him.

Sherlock nodded. “We’re quite similar. Born within a day of each other, did everything roughly the same time, though I went into the profession first. And for a while we even worked together. You can ask Lestrade about the headaches he had dealing with two Sherlocks. Of course, my cousin never referred to himself as a consulting detective. He detested the name, simply preferring being called a consultant. But he’s a detective as well. Why he won’t just—“

“Sherlock, you’re rambling,” John said. “And it’s giving me a headache.”

“Sorry,” Sherlock said.

“So who is Joan Watson?” John asked. “And why would she be writing you the letter?”

“I have no earthly clue,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “But I suppose she got in touch with Mycroft as well, if the text message I received this morning is any indication. Whatever the issue is, she wants all of his family involved.”

“So what are you going to do?” John asked from his seat on the couch.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take a trip to New York,” he replied. “Mycroft won’t be going, but…”

“She also wants to find out about Irene, from the letter. But Irene is dead.” Sherlock said nothing, and actually looked a little guilty. “She _is_ dead, right?”

“Not exactly,” Sherlock said. “My cousin believes Moriarty killed her. That’s what Mycroft told him when he called to ask about her. They had a slightly more…intimate…relationship than I had with her, prior to my meeting her. I think if she couldn’t have him I was her second choice.”

“You have to tell him the truth,” John said.

“And what exactly would that accomplish?” Sherlock asked, though not in an accusatory way. It was more curious than anything else.

“Your cousin is looking for revenge. You read what Joan said he did to Moran. I didn’t even know there was a Moran out there connected with Moriarty.”

“There was. No matter what I did I wasn’t able to get him.” Sherlock sighed. “I’ll tell him, but I have no clue where Irene is now. And I don’t feel like searching for her. If he wants to see her again he can search her out.”

“And I thought my family was strange,” John murmured. “I’m rather thankful for Harry right now.”

“Yes, well, he’s not that bad, I suppose, my cousin,” Sherlock said. “You’ll know soon enough when you meet him.”

“Is he anything like you?”

Sherlock nodded. “Despite being raised by different parents we ended up quite similar.”

“Great. This is going to be fun,” John said with a sigh, reaching over for his laptop. “I’ll make the plane reservations.”

“First class.” John looked at Sherlock and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll cover your ticket, John.”

“First class it is, then,” John said with a slight smile. “When should we leave?”

“As soon as possible. I don’t have much family left. If I have to save him from doing something stupid, I’d rather do it sooner than later.”

\--

“Why on _Earth_ did you contact my cousins, Joan?”

Joan was sitting on her bed on her laptop when Holmes barged into the room. “Because when I did my research and found out about them I thought they could shed some light on Irene and that whole story.”

“You could have just asked me,” Holmes said in a huff, pacing at the foot of her bed.

“I did,” she said, without looking up from her laptop. “You won’t give me a straight answer.”

“How did you find out about my dear cousin, anyway?”

“His friend John has a blog.”

“It’s a good thing you’re just a sober companion and not a blogger. If there is one thing my cousin and I hate most it’s publicity.”

“Did he really fake his death to escape it?” Joan asked, finally looking up.

“I’m not sure. Mycroft won’t give me specifics, even when I called him directly. All I know is Sherlock was considered dead for a year and then suddenly he was back.” He stopped pacing and looked at her. “I still don’t like that you invited them here.”

“Well, Mycroft isn’t coming, but Sherlock and John are.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow night. I’m going to pick them up from the airport.”

“Good luck finding me while they’re here,” Holmes muttered under his breath.

“Oh, I’ll find you,” she said quietly, looking at him. He looked back at her intently. “It’s not the end of the world, Sherlock.”

“No, I suspect that would have been more enjoyable.” He moved towards the door. “Bringing my cousin and his friend into this whole mess just so you can get answers is going too far, Joan.”

“Then tell me the whole story about Irene and I’ll call John up and tell them to stay in London,” she said, looking at him.

“I…can’t.”

“Then get used to your cousin being around,” she said, going back to her computer.

Holmes looked at her for a moment, then sighed and left the room. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his cousin. The man was tolerable, so long as he wasn’t trying to show him up. But he didn’t want all the other reminders that having his cousin in the room would bring. Joan didn’t know that, though, and he supposed it was his own fault for not being clear about it. He just had to hope his cousin was forthcoming with answers quickly and then he could leave. He wasn’t sure New York could handle both of them, just like London hadn’t been able to him. That had been the real reason he’d left, but no one knew that except his cousin. And he had crashed and burned and now? Now his past was going to come back and stare him in the face, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.


	2. Chapter 2

Joan was waiting for the flight when it came into La Guardia. She knew what the London based Sherlock Holmes looked like; there had been a picture splashed of him in a funny hat, and while it was black and white newsprint and he was trying to hide his face it was still a decent picture. She had no clue what his friend looked like, though, because he had been more covered up in the same photograph. So she just kept a lookout for the consulting detective.

She was glad her Sherlock hadn’t pressed about why she was doing this. It was more than just learning about Irene; she wanted to save him from doing something stupid. The mess with Moran had nearly caused him to lose his consulting gig, and with him being fresh out of rehab she didn’t want a relapse. She was considering him a friend now, not just a charge. It was dangerous waters she was treading in since he didn’t know she was no longer technically his sober companion, but if she had to leave, whether because he found out and asked her to leave or because she got a new client, she wanted him to be as whole and healthy as possible.

She spotted the other Sherlock almost immediately. He looked very little like his cousin, other than they were both taller than her. She had to admit he had a striking presence and he might even have been considered her type once upon a time, but because he was Sherlock’s family she knew she wouldn’t let anything happen, even if it was a possibility, and from what she had read about him she doubted that very much.

“Sherlock Holmes?” she asked, coming over to him and the shorter blonde man who was with him.

“Joan Watson?” John asked. She nodded, and he extended his hand. “Not often I meet another Watson that I’m not related to.”

She smiled at him and shook his hand. “My great-grandmother married an Englishman, and then every generation except mine has had sons.”

He was quiet for a moment. “He wouldn’t have been Alfred Watson, would he?”

“Why yes, I believe he was.” she said, slightly confused. “Why?”

“That would make us cousins, I think. A few times removed. Alfred Watson is my great-granduncle. His brother is where my lineage comes from.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “Oh my God. No one in my family ever looked into that side of the family, to be honest. So we’re related?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Huh,” she said.

“Family is always a tricky thing,” Sherlock said in a slightly bored voice.

“Sherlock, it’s not every day I meet new family members,” John said with a slight glare. “Just because you aren’t overly fond of your brother or cousin doesn’t mean I can’t be happy about finding another cousin.”

“I never said that,” Sherlock said.

“Maybe not about your cousin, but I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had negative things to say about Mycroft.”

“I prefer my cousin to Mycroft, actually, because he’s in another continent.” Then he turned to Joan. “You didn’t give us a timeframe of how long you wanted us to be here or where you intended for us to stay, so we only paid for our tickets here and we’ll be booking hotel rooms as soon as you explain exactly what you want from me.”

“Actually, there’s room where we’re at. It’s a decent sized place.”

Sherlock shook his head. “The less time my cousin and I are under the same roof, the better. It is not that we dislike each other intensely, but we are quite similar and most people prefer to spend less time with the two of us together then absolutely necessary. There are a number of suitable hotels in the area, I assume.”

Joan nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m adamant about this.” He looked around. “We have luggage to retrieve. Let’s get it and get going. I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me, and the sooner I’m out of his hair the happier he will be.”

“Then follow me,” Joan said, turning towards the luggage area. Sherlock and John followed. “I know I probably could have done all this through e-mail or on the phone, but I thought it might be good if his family was around.”

“I take it you know about his father, then,” Sherlock said.

“How he’s never around? Oh yeah. Trust me, I know.”

“My uncle has always had a rather hands off approach to raising my cousin, preferring to leave the work to others. I know he hired you as his sober companion and I’m assuming you have yet to meet him.”

Joan stopped in her tracks and John nearly collided into her. “Keep that quiet,” she said, turning to Sherlock.

“That you’re his sober companion or that you haven’t met his father?” Sherlock asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

“That I’m his sober companion. It’s confidential, and Sherlock doesn’t always introduce me as someone who provides that type of service.”

“Ah,” Sherlock said with a nod. “Very well. How does he usually refer to you?”

“I’ve lost track. He’s very creative with his introductions.” They began walking again. “I guess you can just say I’m his associate. That’s pretty much what I am.”

“I’d say you’re probably more than that,” Sherlock murmured.

She stopped again, and this time John did run into her. “I don’t have _that_ type of relationship with him,” she said with a scowl.

“I didn’t mean to imply that. I was merely observing that you consider him a friend, and if he’s let you integrate into his life this much I would assume he considers you a friend as well, or at least more than an associate. A partner, perhaps.” Sherlock looked up and saw a sign for baggage claims. “Besides, you aren’t his type,” he said as he began walking in the direction the sign pointed.

“How do you know I’m not his type?” Joan asked, keeping up with him.

“Because you are not tall and brunette with an hourglass figure. When he needs sex he is a bit more lenient in his type, but as a sober companion I am sure you would never provide that service, so any more intimate relationship you would have would either be a friendship or perhaps a one-sided attraction on your part. You do not strike me as the type to harbor feelings like that for a man who is so similar to me, so I deduced your relationship to him is that of a friend.”

“Wow, you really are a lot like him,” Joan said, shaking her head.

“Which is why it will be best if I spend as little time in New York as possible,” Sherlock said.

Joan was about to reply when her phone rang. She checked the caller ID and saw it was Holmes. “Hello?” she asked as she answered.

“We have a case at the Empire State Building,” he said, sounding rather excited.

“I just picked up your cousin. We haven’t even gotten their luggage and they haven’t gotten a hotel room yet,” she said.

“Well, bring them and their luggage and we can sort it all out later,” he replied. “Trust me, if my cousin isn’t already bored he will be if he sits in a hotel room overnight before you can talk to him. This will help stimulate his mind and probably make him more talkative.”

“If you’re sure,” she said dubiously.

“I am. Now get here as quickly as you can.” He hung up after that.

She looked at Sherlock and John. “There’s been a change of plans.”

“I’m assuming that was my cousin,” Sherlock said. Joan nodded. “What are the plans now?”

“Get your things and go to the Empire State Building,” she said. “He has a case.”

Sherlock smiled slightly. “This could be interesting,” he murmured.

“I just hope Sherlock prepared Tobias first,” Joan said with a sigh. “I get the feeling this is going to be a long night.”


	3. Chapter 3

John was fascinated by the sights in New York, while Sherlock looked out the window, oblivious to it all. Joan sat in between them, mostly because both men asked to have window seats. She was nervous, mostly because she had not wanted things to go this way at all. It was good that her Sherlock wanted to include his cousin on whatever case he had right now. It was a good sign. But it still made her nervous.

Holmes must have told Detective Gregson about his cousin, because he was standing there with Detective Bell when the cab pulled up. Sherlock got out first and looked at Tobias. “Tobias,” he said with a nod.

“I had hoped Sherlock was lying when he said you were coming,” Tobias said with a sigh. “The last time we saw each other it didn’t go well.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” Sherlock said. “You didn’t punch me that hard.”

“Punching someone named Sherlock seems to be my forte now,” Tobias said. “Who’s your friend?”

“John Watson, Tobias Gregson,” Sherlock said as John came around. “He’s like Lestrade, except possibly smarter.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Tobias said, slightly surprised.

“Scotland Yard would never have accepted your help if you were less than their own detectives,” Sherlock said as John and Tobias shook hands.

“Good point,” Tobias said with the ghost of a smile. “Sherlock, John, this is Detective Marcus Bell.”

Marcus held out his hand. John shook it but Sherlock ignored it. “Pleasure to meet you, I guess,” Marcus said.

“Where is my cousin?” Sherlock asked.

“In the alley,” Tobias said. “Follow me, all of you.” The five of them began to walk around to the alley. “How should I refer to you?” he asked Sherlock.

“How do you refer to my cousin?” Sherlock asked.

“Last name. Want me to go back to Sherlock One and Sherlock Two?”

“If you call him Holmes simply address me by my first name,” Sherlock said. “It might be best if everyone does this.”

“How come your parents gave you the same name?” Marcus asked.

“I was wondering that myself,” John said.

“As I said before, we were born within a day of each other,” Sherlock said. “I was born first. Our parents had argued over who would name their son Sherlock after an ancestor. The day I was born there was a power outage in London, so they were not able to inform my aunt and uncle I had been born and named Sherlock. When my cousin was born the next evening at a different hospital they also named him Sherlock. We have different middle names, however. Mine is Carlton, his is William.”

“Maybe we should just refer to you by your middle names,” Joan suggested.

“Neither of us would answer to it,” Sherlock said as they approached the crime scene tape and they each began to duck under it. “What are the particulars of this case?”

Tobias looked at his notebook. “Homeless guy found a young man buried under cardboard. The victim doesn’t appear to be homeless, and there’s no bullet holes or stab wounds on the body. It’s almost like he fell asleep and froze to death, but it’s obviously not that cold out. Coroner said death was recent.”

“He was poisoned,” both of the Sherlocks chorused, though the one closest to the body was quite a bit louder.

“Cousin,” Holmes said. “I deduce it was hemlock. Poison hemlock as opposed to water hemlock, though until we get a toxicology screen back we won’t know for sure.” The other Sherlock knelt down next to the body. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves. “Even on vacation you brought gloves?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I always keep at least one pair in my coat pocket,” he murmured, putting them on. “May I examine the body?” he asked Tobias.

Tobias nodded. “Coroner already checked him. We’re just waiting for transport.”

Sherlock opened the man’s mouth. “Rigor hasn’t set in so his death was recent.” He looked closely. “There is an extreme amount of saliva. It was water hemlock poisoning.”

Holmes knelt down and peered closer. “You appear to be right.”

“I usually am when it comes to poisons.”

“I know. That was your specialty.” He stood up again. “It will be interesting doing this case with you.”

“Hopefully I can tell your assistant what she needs to know before I have to stay here much longer,” he said as he stood up. “This is your city, not mine.”

“Yes. You always did feel more comfortable in London,” he said with a nod.

“I had to do extensive traveling last year. I prefer to remain in London now, if I can help it.”

“All part of faking your death, hmm?”

“Yes,” he said. “I was taking down a criminal network.”

Holmes blinked. “Mycroft never said that.”

“Mycroft felt you didn’t need to know,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “But if you must know, it was Moriarty’s criminal network.”

“Wait a sec,” Marcus said. “Moriarty? As in M? The guy Moran worked for?”

Sherlock nodded. “One in the same.”

“What happened to him?” his cousin asked.

“Perhaps this is a story best shared elsewhere,” Sherlock replied.

“I’m actually quite keen to know myself,” Tobias said, crossing his arms.

“He met me on the roof of a hospital roughly a year ago and threatened to kill my friends if I didn’t kill myself that day. Then he shot himself so I couldn’t take him in to the authorities, so I jumped off the roof. A doctor friend of mine had helped me fake my death.”

Holmes’s jaw was hanging down. “Did Moran know?”

His cousin shrugged. “I doubt it. The government rushed in and covered things up. Most of his network was only aware he wasn’t communicating with them as regularly as he had before.”

“The bastard got what was coming to him,” Holmes said. “For what he did to Irene.”

The other Sherlock looked at John, who nodded. “Perhaps we could take a walk, cousin.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I have information you need to know.”

He looked at Tobias, Marcus, Joan and John, then nodded. “All right. There’s a Starbucks nearby.”

“Very well,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“What about the case?” Marcus asked.

“We’ll be back,” Sherlock said. “The crime scene will keep for a half hour or so.”

“Go back to the precinct when you’re done,” Tobias said. “That’s where we’ll be.”

“Very well,” Holmes said. They made their way to the crime scene tape and he lifted it up. “After you, cousin.” The other Sherlock ducked under and then his cousin followed. Hopefully this was not going to be a colossal mistake, he thought to himself. Whatever news his cousin had for him must not be good if he wasn't willing to share it in front of the others. He had to steel himself for anything.

\---

The two men got their drinks and sat down at a table near the window. The sun was setting and it was getting dark quickly. The street lights had already come on, though there was still some light left in the sky. Both of them looked out the window for a few moments before Holmes spoke. “What did you need to tell me you couldn’t say in front of the others?” he asked.

“Irene is not dead,” his cousin said quietly, not looking away from the window.

He had been about to take a drink when he froze. She wasn’t dead? What in the bloody hell had happened? “You need to explain,” he said, his voice tight.

“After you left London she began to look for me. If she couldn’t have you I was second best, I suppose. She was working with Moriarty. She had me decode something about an anti-terrorist plot. When it all fell apart she went into hiding.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Moriarty was not behind her death. If Mycroft had told you what he believed to be the truth, she was killed by terrorists. But in fact she wasn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I rescued her.”

“Where is she now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, turning to look at his cousin. “After I rescued her I gave her fake identification and she left. I haven’t heard from her since.”

“What name is she using now?”

“Elizabeth Burgress was the name the identification I gave her used. Whether she is still using it is a different matter, though it’s a place to start.”

Holmes was reeling. Her death had been the thing that started him down the path he had taken. The addiction, the doubt, the anger…it had all stemmed from her death. And now to know she was alive? And his cousins had known? He was grateful Sherlock had saved her, but at the same time the news she had looked at him as a replacement hurt. Still, she could still be alive. “Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly.

“I have no idea why Mycroft lied to you, unless you asked while I was taking down Moriarty’s network. But even then it makes little sense.”

“There’s no need for you to stay, I suppose,” he replied, finally taking a sip of his drink.

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a slight nod. “Though…”

“The case has you intrigued,” Holmes said.

His cousin nodded. “It is not often someone uses hemlock for their poison. Arsenic or cyanide is more suitable. Quicker results, for one.”

“I had thought that myself,” Holmes mused. “Perhaps you would like to help?”

“I don’t have any pressing business in London I need to return to,” Sherlock said thoughtfully. “And I know John would appreciate some time to explore the city.”

“Then stay and help,” Holmes said.

“Very well,” his cousin said with a nod. “It will be interesting, working together again.”

Holmes took a sip of his drink. “That it shall.”


	4. Chapter 4

“So, tell me more about your Sherlock,” John asked Joan as they waited for the cousins to return. They were at the precinct, sipping lukewarm and slightly bitter coffee, and Joan kept glancing at the door. John’s question pulled her out of her new routine and she looked at John.

“Not much to tell. He’s brilliant, slightly maddening, and I guess I care for him as a friend a lot. I mean, _I_ think we’re friends. I have no clue if he feels the same way.”

“So it’s gone beyond your original relationship?” John asked before taking another sip of his coffee.

She nodded. “I didn’t think I’d form an attachment like this. My therapist says it’s a bad idea. One day he won’t need my services and then where will I be?” She took a sip of her own coffee and made a slight face. “This stuff is horrible.”

“Sherlock’s coffee is infinitely worse,” John said with a slight chuckle. “The closest word I could describe it with would be sludge.”

“That’s another difference between them. My Sherlock makes great coffee, though I don’t drink it very often. I’m always trying to limit my caffeine intake.”

“I try my best not to let my Sherlock get close to anything in the kitchen. He burns just about everything he attempts to cook.”

“Sounds like you two have an interesting relationship,” Joan said.

“Sometimes it’s just friends, other times it feels like I’m the mother and he’s the spoiled child.” He shrugged slightly. “It’s when it goes to that second mode where I get angry.”

“I feel that way with my Sherlock sometimes,” Joan said thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s more overprotective big sister to irresponsible and slightly strange younger brother.” 

“I’m sure your therapist tells you having that type of relationship isn’t healthy. I know my therapist would prefer if I didn’t feel this need to take care of Sherlock as much.” John had another sip of coffee. “I wonder if our therapists knew exactly what kind of men we’re dealing with. Personally I wouldn’t inflict my Sherlock on her.”

“I doubt they know. They’re similar but very unique,” she said. Then she looked at her cup of coffee. “I can’t drink any more of this. I’m going to go get a chai tea from the coffee shop down the street. Would you like to come with me?”

“Sure,” he said, leaving his cup on the table and standing up. “Never really one for chai, but if they have Earl Grey I’d be happy.”

“It probably comes in a bag,” she said.

“I can handle bagged tea for a bit,” he said as they began to get ready to go outside. It took them a few moments, but then they headed towards the doors of the precinct.

“I wonder what your Sherlock had to tell my Sherlock about that they didn’t need everyone else to know,” Joan said as they exited the building.

“I have a very good idea,” John said. “It’s probably about Irene.”

“What about her?” Joan asked.

“That she’s not really dead,” John said.

Joan stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“Mycroft lied to your Sherlock. Said Moriarty had killed Irene. But that’s not the case. Irene was captured by terrorists, my Sherlock rescued her, and then she went off and built a brand new life for herself somewhere else.”

“Oh God,” Joan said quietly. “This…this is not good news.”

“How could it not be good news?”

“A lot of his addiction problems stemmed from her death,” Joan said. “I got that much out of him before he stopped talking about her altogether.”

“Damn,” John said. “And Sherlock isn’t exactly the best at delivering news like that. No offense to him, but there’s a distinct lack of empathy in him that I think is bad news for telling someone that a person they believed was dead really isn’t.”

“Let’s go get our drinks while I try and get my Sherlock on the phone,” Joan said as they began moving again.

“I can place the orders if you want to try and call,” John said.

“Okay.” They made their way to the coffee shop and John placed the orders while Joan kept calling. When he came over to her with her drinks she hung up in disgust. “I’ve tried six times and it just rings. The last time it went straight to voicemail.”

“Perhaps he’s not taking it well?” John suggested.

“That’s what I’m worried about. It’s not that he’s fragile, but…no, it kind of is. He’s still new to his sobriety. This could tip him right back into addiction.”

“But maybe it won’t.” Joan looked at John, slightly surprised. “I mean, yeah, he was lied to by his family. But now he knows the truth. Maybe he’ll go looking for her. Maybe he’ll focus on the task of finding her again, and be so focused on it that the idea of drugs and alcohol won’t even enter his mind. I know that’s what I’d do if I got news like that.”

“Were you ever an addict?” Joan asked. John shook his head. “Addicts think differently. But…this _is_ Sherlock we’re talking about. Place a big enough mystery in front of him and that might be all he focuses on. Maybe you’re right about this, John.”

“Maybe. If your Sherlock is anything like mine, though, I think I am. I know my Sherlock was addicted to drugs at some point in his life, and it was getting involved with Scotland Yard as a consulting detective that made him all right again. Well, along with rehab, but you see what I’m saying, right?”

She nodded. “I do see what you’re saying. Let’s just hope this is how it all goes down, or I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t want to see him go down that road again, and I wasn’t even there to see it the first time.”

“I’ll pray he takes it well,” John said. “You should do the same.”

“I think I will.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was hard to concentrate on the case with the news he had been given, Holmes realized as he watched his cousin, John and Joan contribute to the case in Tobias’s office. It was a tight fit with the five of them and Marcus, and he was in a corner. He was summarily being ignored, which normally he detested but for right now was fine. He needed to think, and this case was not what was rattling around in his mind. Irene was alive. Or she had been alive, at any rate. Irene Adler was somewhere on this earth if she was still alive, living under an assumed name.

Their relationship had been different than her relationship with most of her clients. They had known each other when they were younger, in primary school. He knew she had had a rough life, and they used to commiserate on how much their fathers didn’t deserve them. When they got older they had drifted apart, especially after she moved away. It wasn’t until they were in their mid-twenties that they found each other again. She had decided to make her way as a dominatrix, and he was fascinated by it. He was doing the odd case for Scotland Yard that his cousin didn’t want, and she thought that was more interesting than what she was doing.

They had started with a sort of “friends with benefits” thing, using each other’s bodies for mutual release. He never thought about her chosen career or the other men and the women she was with. It never bothered him. He had to admit, she was good at what she did. He learned a lot from her that still influenced his tastes today. And he was always open for experimentation. He knew her more intimately than most of her clients did, from their shared past and the fact that when they were done they would talk afterwards. He knew for a fact she did not do that with her clients.

He didn’t know when he began to fall in love with her. Probably two years after they reconnected, a year and a half or so after they began sleeping together. He wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt the same way; he had never asked, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know in case she hadn’t. Love was not something that confused him, as it did with his cousin, but it was a messy emotion and he wanted to avoid it all the same. He got very good at separating the emotion from his friendship and his sexual relationship with her, but not always well enough. He was sure she had noticed that things were growing different after two years of him trying to hide it.

They’d had a fight one night and in the heat of the passionate exchanges she’d said she didn’t want to see him again, so he left. He didn’t take it well, but he did throw himself into his work. He knew he must have been unbearable; his cousin could barely stand to be in the same room as him and he knew he drove Lestrade and his newest subordinate Donovan up the wall. When Lestrade said he preferred his cousin, the one with the drug addiction and the sociopathic tendencies, over him, then he knew it was time to leave London. Leave Scotland Yard, leave his family and most of all leave Irene, who even though they hadn’t spoken since the fight still loomed large in his life as she became a magnet for scandal. So he left and went to New York, taking Tobias up on his offer to consult. It went well enough until he was informed of Irene’s death, and then it was downhill from there.

“Holmes,” Marcus said quietly from his spot to the left. Holmes’s head snapped up and he looked at the young detective. “You okay?”

Holmes nodded. “Quite well. Lost in some thoughts.”

“Paying attention to the case?” he asked.

“Not really,” Holmes admitted.

“There isn’t much more to discuss until the autopsy results are back,” his cousin said from the other side. Holmes looked at him and saw no sign that his cousin was annoyed that he was doing all the work, which was unusual. Maybe time had changed him after all. “John and I need to find a place to stay while we’re here, so if we could leave and come back to this at a later point that would be good.”

“Stay with us,” Holmes said with a shrug. “Save yourselves some money.”

“Do you really want us residing under the same roof?” Sherlock said.

“You and I need to talk, at length,” Holmes replied. “I want you nice and close while we do that.”

His cousin nodded. “As you wish. John said our luggage is in the storeroom.”

“I’ll call you when I get the results, Holmes,” Tobias said. “Marcus and I will try and get an ID on the kid, see if that gets us any more leads.”

“Very well,” Holmes said with a nod. He turned to Joan. “Let’s head home now.”

His cousin and John walked out the door first, John leading his friend in the direction of their luggage. Joan walked out next, but paused at the door. “Sherlock, are you sure you're okay?”

“Me? I’m perfectly fine. No need to worry I’ll fall off the wagon.” He began heading towards the others. “Thank you for your concern, though.”

“If you want to talk…” she said.

“I want to talk to Sherlock first. If I still need to talk, I will turn to you,” he said. “After all, we are friends, and it’s not as though you’re my sober companion anymore.”

“What?” she said, blinking for a moment before staring at him.

“I spoke to my father yesterday, after I found out you’d sent for my cousins. He said your contract expired. I thank you for staying on, even though you didn’t need to and weren’t getting paid.”

“Sherlock…”

“This is a conversation we can have later, after I talk to my cousin,” he said quietly. “But just know that I would like it if you stayed and helped. I think better when you’re around. I think you are a good influence. And I consider you a friend. I would like to consider you a partner as well, if you’re willing.”

“All right,” Joan said with a nod. “We can talk about this later.”

“Excellent. Let’s get my cousin and his friend settled in. Fair warning, though: you might want to use earplugs for a while tonight.”

“Oh?” she said.

“I get the feeling our discussion is going to get _very_ heated.”

“I’ll give a set to John, then,” Joan said. “Thanks for the head’s up.”

“You’re very welcome.” And with that, they rejoined the other Sherlock and John. Holmes realized this was going to be a long night, but maybe some good would come out of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, I went back and edited the first five chapters to have BBC!Sherlock referred to as Sherlock and Elementary!Sherlock referred to as Holmes. It will stay this way for the rest of the story, to make it less confusing.

Holmes waited patiently for his cousin and his friend to get settled in two of the other rooms. He saw Joan hand John a set of earplugs and smiled faintly at the confused expression on John’s face. He didn’t wait around to see what sort of explanation Joan gave John. It would be interesting to know later whether she told him the truth or gave him a falsehood. He would probably know as soon as his cousin and he started arguing. Finally it was just the two Sherlocks in the living room. Holmes sat in one chair while Sherlock walked around the room, looking at things. “You should sit,” Holmes said.

“If it’s all right, I would prefer to stand,” Sherlock replied. “I get the feeling we’re about to have a row.”

“Possibly,” Holmes said, inclining his head slightly. “It depends on how much your answers infuriate me.”

“I told you everything at the coffee shop,” Sherlock said, avoiding looking at his cousin.

“Except the why. Why would you feel indebted to save Irene’s life?”

“Are you expecting me to say I fell in love with her like you did?” his cousin replied, turning to face Holmes. “Because that is not the case. To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever fall in love with anyone, but certainly not Irene.”

Holmes stared. “Tell me everything that happened with her, from the beginning.”

“A few years ago she had gotten evidence of her tryst with a female royal. Mycroft asked me to get the evidence back. I arrived at her home with John, pretending to be a vicar who had been mugged. She met with me naked.”

“Naked?” Holmes asked.

“Yes. About the only clothing she had on were a pair of heels. I made her put on my coat.” He began to pace. “During my attempts to find the photographs she began to flirt with me. However, her game was interrupted by the arrival of three American agents. We managed to get the upper hand.”

“I’m not surprised,” Holmes said, leaning back in his chair. “She was rather resourceful.”

A faint smile crossed Sherlock’s face. “She’d booby trapped her safe, which took out one agent. I disarmed the leader, and she disarmed the third. So yes, she was quite resourceful. At any rate, I found her phone, which had the incriminating photographs and video, but she got it back from me after drugging me.”

“Very good, Irene,” Holmes murmured.

Sherlock glared slightly. “The following Christmas she sent me a text message, accompanied by the ringtone she had given me for her texts.”

“Which was?” Sherlock pulled out his phone and fiddled with it a moment. Soon Irene’s erotic moan ringtone was heard. “That’s Irene, all right.”

“That was actually her?” Sherlock asked, mildly surprised.

“I heard that sound often enough over the years to know,” Holmes said with a nod. “Continue.”

“She gave me her phone, giftwrapped. I knew then that her body would be at the morgue. My suspicions were confirmed a few hours later, only it wasn’t really her. I just said it was, because if she had sent me her phone it meant she was going into hiding. Out of respect to her relationship with you I helped facilitate her endeavor.”

“But she came back, didn’t she?” Holmes said shrewdly, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“A few months later she broke into my home and I found her asleep in my bed. That was when she had me decode the message. She sent my solution to Moriarty, and he sent a text to Mycroft. A very detailed and secret anti-terrorist plot was ruined by my desire to impress her.”

“Always one to show off your humungous intellect,” Holmes said.

“I could very well say the same for you, dear cousin,” Sherlock retorted.

Holmes opened his mouth to reply, then stopped and sighed. “Touché.”

“At any rate, she came to extort money from Mycroft, but I finally figured out the password to her phone, thwarting her efforts. She went into hiding and that was the last Mycroft had heard from her until the video of her with the terrorists came out.”

“But you used that video to find her and rescue her. Why?”

“Because you loved her,” Sherlock said quietly. “If I’m not mistaken, you still do. She may have been infatuated with me, but I knew if I could save her and I didn’t and you ever found out you would never forgive me.”

“Why would my forgiveness matter? After all, until today we’ve been estranged,” Holmes said, standing up.

“We may have been estranged, but you are still family. I don’t have much family left, and alienating the only person I like more than my brother was probably not the best idea.”

“Well, that’s because no one likes Mycroft,” Holmes said. “He’s an insufferable git.”

Sherlock smiled slightly. “That is true.” He moved to his cousin. “As much as she has made bad decisions, she didn’t deserve to die. And before you ask, I do not know why Mycroft lied to you. I never told him to say that Moriarty had killed her. In all honesty, it might have been better if he’d told you the truth as he knew it, that she was captured by terrorists and executed.”

“I did so many stupid things when I found out she had died,” Holmes said quietly. “Her death is what caused my addictions to spiral out of control.”

“Not that you had much control to begin with,” Sherlock replied. Holmes looked at him sharply. “One former addict to another. I would understand better than most.”

“That is true,” Holmes conceded. “It was the beginning of my downward spiral.” Then he sighed. “I should be angry at you, but I’m more angry at Mycroft for lying to me than I am at you. He probably would have let her be executed.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Sherlock said. “He would have looked at it as the permanent end to a pressing problem.”

“Which makes him a bastard,” Holmes said, and Sherlock nodded. “Thank you for saving her, Sherlock.”

“You’re welcome, I suppose,” Sherlock said as he inclined his head slightly. “What are you going to do now, cousin?”

“After we solve this case, I suppose I’ll start looking for her,” Holmes said thoughtfully. “As you correctly guessed, I am still in love with her. I need to find out if she ever felt the same.”

“Then I wish you the best of luck,” Sherlock said. “And I’ll help out however I can.”

“Thank you.” Holmes watched as Sherlock pulled out his phone again. “What are you doing?”

“In all the years since she would send me the occasional text,” he said, tapping something out on his screen. “The last one I received was after I faked my death. I believe it’s about time I return one of them, don’t you?”

“Do you think she will answer?” Holmes asked, standing by his shoulder, looking down at the phone.

“There’s only one way to find out,” he said. “Do you think that will get her attention?”

Holmes read the text. “I’d be surprised if that doesn’t merit a response.”

Sherlock pressed a button and sent the text. They waited, Holmes with baited breath, and three minutes later Irene’s erotic moan was heard. Holmes read the answering text as soon as he pulled it up. “Her new name is Victoria Hart and she’s here in New York City,” Sherlock read off his screen.

Holmes stood stock still. “I didn’t expect her to be so close.”

“Then perhaps you should go pay her a visit,” Sherlock said quietly.

Holmes nodded slowly. “Perhaps I should.” He went to the coat rack and grabbed his coat and scarf. “If Joan asks, tell her I went to go see an old friend.”

“I will,” Sherlock said with a nod. 

Holmes opened the door and pulled out his own phone, pulling up a contact. “Detective Bell? I need a favor,” he said as he walked out the door, shutting it behind him. She was alive, and tonight she was going to receive a visitor from her past, whether she liked it or not.


	7. Chapter 7

He hated to admit it, but he was nervous. Marcus had given him Irene’s address, and he wasn’t surprised it was in Manhattan, in a particularly upscale part of the city. His cab pulled up to the brownstone and he paid the driver and got out. He double checked that the address he had been given was the same building he was in front of, and when he realized it was he bounded up the stairs and he knocked on the door.

Two minutes later the door opened, and he found himself face to face with Irene Adler. She had changed her hair, which was now short and stick straight and a warmer shade of brown, but it was still the same woman he knew so intimately. “Sherlock,” she said quietly. “I expected a visit soon, but I assumed it would be your cousin.”

“He sent the text for me,” Holmes said quietly. “He’s here because of you.”

“But not for the reasons I should assume,” she said with a slight smile.

“No.”

“Come in,” she said quietly, moving out of the way. He entered her home, and she shut the door behind him. “I’d offer you a drink but I’m not sure I should, what with you being fresh out of rehab.”

“You kept tabs,” he murmured.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “On both you and your cousin.”

“Of course,” he replied.

“I never expected to see you again,” she said quietly. “I never expected to see either of you again, to be honest.”

“This isn’t a pleasant surprise, is it?” he asked as she led him to a chair in her living room.

“Actually, it is,” she said quietly as she sat in the chair next to him. His eyes widened slightly. “It’s problematic, but not a burden.”

“When we fought you said you never wanted to see me again,” he said quietly. “I respected your wishes.”

“And there hasn’t been a day that has gone by that I don’t regret those words,” she said. “Even when I was chasing your cousin, I knew I would much rather see you again.”

“Then why did you say them?” Holmes asked, looking at her. She was quiet in response. “Irene?”

“Because I had started to fall in love with you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I was scared. I had never expected to fall in love. I thought I had locked my heart away. I thought it would hurt my career. And then we had the fight and the words came up and you left, and that was the end of things. I did a better job with keeping my emotions at bay after that, and then everything went to hell when I got involved with Moriarty. He kept wanting me to get more secrets, extract more information, and soon it became problematic. You weren’t in London anymore so I couldn’t turn to you for help, so I started going after your cousin.”

Holmes was quiet for a moment. “And now?”

“I feel safe enough now that I no longer collect secrets. It helps that Moriarty is dead.” She shrugged slightly. “I live the life of an eccentric wealthy recluse here. As far as I know, the world at large has accepted that Irene Adler is really and truly dead.”

“Mycroft told me Moriarty had killed you,” Holmes said.

“In a way, he had, though probably not the way Mycroft thought. If I hadn’t gotten involved with him I would still be in London, still practicing my skills on my clientele. He ruined my life and I had to go into hiding. Then I got mixed up with the terrorists and your cousin rescued me, gave me a fresh start. I came to New York because you were here, but I was afraid to show myself to you in case people were still looking for me.”

“Were you ever going to tell me you were here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, probably not.”

“Ah,” Holmes said, hanging his head slightly.

“I know the news of my death is what sent you off the deep end, so to speak,” she replied. “I’m sorry for that.”

“You did what needed to be done,” Holmes said. “I may not like it, but I understand.”

“Now that you know, though, this changes things.” She looked at him, then hesitantly reached over to place a hand on his arm. When he didn’t shrug it off she gripped his arm slightly. “I do still care for you. I never stopped.”

He looked at her hand, then at her. “Do you still love me?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, Sherlock. What I felt for your cousin was infatuation, nothing more. What I feel for you is different.”

“So, what do you want to do now?” he asked, staring at her intently.

“Tonight, we can talk. If anything else happens I wouldn’t say no, but for now, let’s just talk.” She gave him a warm smile. “I missed you, Sherlock.”

“I missed you as well, Irene,” he said quietly.

“Then let’s catch up,” she said, moving her hand down until she was holding his hand in hers. He stared at them for a moment, then squeezed her hand gently. This was probably going better than he ever could have planned.

\--

An hour after Holmes left, both John and Joan came downstairs to see Sherlock strumming at his cousin’s violin. “I would have expected to hear yelling by now,” Joan said, crossing her arms. “Where’s Sherlock?”

“Visiting an old friend,” Sherlock said. “I wouldn’t expect him to come home tonight, to be honest.”

“I hope he’s not doing something stupid,” Joan said, shaking her head.

“Other than the distinct possibility that he might be having sexual intercourse tonight, I doubt it,” Sherlock said. John raised an eyebrow. “It turns out Irene is here in New York City. He went to pay her a visit.”

“Wow,” John said, his eyes slightly wide. “All the places in the world she could settle and she chooses this city?”

“Sentimental value,” Sherlock said. “I believe the Sherlock she had the password for had always been my cousin, not me. I was a means to an end.” He picked up the bow that had been on his lap. “I believe he is laying some demons to rest tonight.”

“So why wasn’t there a fight?” Joan asked, going to her usual seat.

“Because he’s more angry at my brother for lying to him than he is at me. I saved her life, after all.” He shrugged slightly before running the bow along the violin strings. A melancholy note came out. “As I said before, I would not expect him home tonight.”

Joan was quiet for a moment. “So you can probably go home now,” she said.

“On the contrary. I committed myself to helping with this case.” He played another note. “And you did want to know about Irene. I’m sure my cousin can tell you more the next time he sees you, but I can answer some questions.”

“You’ll do that?” Joan asked, surprised.

He nodded. “I had planned on it all along, despite Sherlock’s thoughts to the contrary. So whatever you want to know, I will answer to the best of my ability.”

“Okay then,” Joan asked. “But it could take a while.”

“I have all the time in the world tonight,” Sherlock said. “After all, I think it will be just the three of us here tonight.” He looked at Joan. “Though before you start, perhaps it would be best if we got food.”

“I can order take-out. What do you two want?” she asked, standing up and pulling out her phone.

“Chinese?” John suggested, and Sherlock nodded. “Chinese,” he said to Joan.

“I know just the place,” she said, putting the phone to her ear. Sherlock watched and he knew that tonight was going to be a turning point, not just for his relationship with his cousin, but for his cousin’s relationships with others. It wasn’t often he got to do something nice for his family, so he was going to take advantage of it.


	8. Chapter 8

Joan groaned as her phone rang. She glanced at the alarm clock by her bed and saw it was eight in the morning. She had stayed up talking with Sherlock and John until nearly four in the morning, half hoping her own Sherlock would come home by then. She was worried at the start of the evening, but the more the night dragged on the less worried she became. Now she was just curious.

She picked up her phone and saw it was Holmes calling. “Yes?” she said as she accepted the call and put the phone to her ear.

“They have an ID on the body,” he said. “We’re needed at the precinct in an hour.”

“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “How was your visit with your old friend?”

“It went very well. I just left, actually.”

“That’s good.” She yawned slightly. “I think your cousin is already awake. I can hear banging downstairs.”

“Was it a dreadful bore being with him all night?”

“No, actually, he’s quite interesting. So is John. We stayed up talking until about four in the morning.” She sat up in bed more. “I’ll go see if John is awake. Does your cousin ever sleep?”

“Only when he drops from exhaustion, if he can. He prefers it that way. But usually he sleeps for no more than three or four hours a night.”

“Did _you_ get any sleep last night?” she asked.

“Some.”

“Did you sleep alone?”

There was a pause. “No.”

“Good for you,” she said with a slight smile as she pushed the covers off of her.

“Sex did not occur last night, in case you were wondering.”

“Your cousin thought it might.”

“My cousin has had the occasion to be wrong before,” Holmes said. “But we did share a bed last night when it became too late to keep talking.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

“Yes. She lives the life of a recluse, just in case her enemies are still about, but I suppose there are worse places to spend time than at her home. We plan on meeting up again when this case is over.”

“Well, good for you, Sherlock,” she said as she went to her closet. “I hope everything works out, and if it doesn’t…”

“As my friend, I know you will be there to help me through it,” he said with just a slight chuckle. “We still need to talk about you being my partner, now that you’re no longer my sober companion.”

“After I’ve had more sleep. Or at least some coffee. I’m not putting you off forever, but right now I’ve had four hours of sleep and my brain’s just a bit fuzzy. I get the feeling there’s going to be a lot to talk about. I need to get dressed now if you want us there in an hour.”

“Very well. I will see you at the precinct then.” 

“Bye.” He hung up, and she selected an outfit to wear and changed into it. She could hear more banging in the kitchen area and decided to see what Sherlock was up to before she woke John up. She got down there and was surprised to see John doing the banging and Sherlock sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. “Did either of you go to sleep last night?” she asked.

“No,” Sherlock said, not looking up from the paper.

“My schedule is off from sleeping on the plane and the time zone differences,” John said with a shrug. “We would have waited but Sherlock said he was hungry. I can’t find anything to cook with.”

“We don’t do a lot of cooking here,” she said, though she moved over to the cabinet with the pots and pans. She opened it and pointed, and he nodded. “Sherlock said they got an ID on the body and we need to be at the precinct in an hour.”

“That gives us time to get food before we go,” Sherlock said. “You can go one morning without making breakfast, John.”

“I suppose,” he said, setting down the skillet he’d picked up. “Is there a bakery or something nearby?”

She nodded. “There’s a place down the street.” She moved over to the coffee maker. “Who made the coffee?”

“I did,” John said. “Fresh brewed about twenty minutes ago.”

She went to the cupboard and pulled down her travel mug, then went about making her coffee. “I don’t usually drink coffee, but I get the feeling today I’m going to need it.”

“We did stay up rather late talking, didn’t we?” John said with an amused smile as he went back to his own coffee. “I would like to get to know you a little better next time, if it’s possible. I mean, we talked about ourselves most of the time. And you’re family.”

“I told my father about meeting you,” she said with a slight smile as she went back to the cupboard to grab a coffee mug so she could have a cup of coffee now. “He’d like to meet you before you leave. He has all sorts of questions about that side of the family.”

“Sure. Perhaps after the case is solved,” John said with a nod. He took a sip of his coffee. “If that’s all right with you, Sherlock.”

“I suppose,” he said, looking up from the newspaper. “If you want to extend the visit I can always go back home without you.”

“There’s got to be things you want to do while you’re here,” John said, frowning slightly.

“I’m not interested in the things tourists are interested in,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “I can do fine on my own back home for a week or so while you spend time here in New York.”

“Maybe your cousin would like to spend more time with you,” Joan said.

“Now that he’s found Irene I sincerely doubt that,” Sherlock said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” John said with a shrug. “You should ask, though.”

“Perhaps,” Sherlock said, picking up his coffee. “But I doubt he would prefer to spend time with me over Irene.”

“Ask him,” Joan said. “I think you might be surprised.”

“Very well,” Sherlock said with a sigh. “If it’s all right with the two of you, though, I would like to get something to eat and then get back to work. I’ve formulated a few theories and I’m hoping the autopsy has been finished by now.”

“I’ll drink this quickly,” Joan said, hiding a smile. While they may be two different men, the cousins were a lot more similar than most people would probably realize. This was going to make for an interesting time, no matter how long Sherlock and John ended up staying.


	9. Chapter 9

“The victim’s name was Aaron O’Brien,” Tobias said once everyone had gathered in his office. “He was a junior at Syracuse and he lived off campus in University Hill. Marcus is telling his parents about his death right now. I figured the four of you might want to check out his place.”

“What else do you know about him?” Sherlock asked.

Tobias looked at his notes. “He had just moved off campus this school year, since all first and second year students are required to live on campus. He was in a fraternity, Delta Kappa Epsilon. He was in the School of Architecture, at Slocum Hall, and spent most of his time when he wasn’t being a frat boy studying. His prints were in the system for a DUI charge that didn’t get prosecuted when he proved he wasn’t drunk, he’d just had too much cough syrup with codeine. We’ve already spoken to his roommate and he informed us Aaron had a girlfriend named Melinda Charles that he had a fight with recently.”

“Has anyone spoken with her yet?” Joan asked.

Tobias shook his head. “She’s being brought into the station as we speak. We do still have his roommate here, Thomas Harrington. He’d had some words with him recently as well.”

“I’d like to speak with the roommate and the girlfriend,” Holmes said, looking at his cousin.

“I could investigate his home,” Sherlock said slowly. “If we all were to sit here and wait the leads could grow cold.”

“Do you know how to get to the University Hill area?" Tobias asked Sherlock. He shook his head. “I’ll have a uniform drive you out there and have Marcus meet you.”

“Very well,” Sherlock said with a nod. Tobias, Sherlock and John left the room with that, and Sherlock turned to John. “I think we will get more information from his residence than we would speaking to the two suspects.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to talk to the girlfriend and the roommate,” John replied

“My cousin can handle that well enough,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “Tobias,” he then said in the direction of the detective.

“Yeah?” he asked slowly.

“Is there any possible chance we could also check into Melinda’s residence?”

“Let’s see if her alibi checks out first. The one thing I did note was that she’s a biochemistry student at Syracuse, and his roommate had mentioned she had an interest in botany that the vic shared.”

“One of my theories is most likely obsolete now,” Sherlock said.

“Which one?” John asked.

“Accidental ingestion. Someone with an interest in botany would know water hemlock on sight. I would not be surprised if it was indeed murder and not someone panicking that he had dropped dead around them.”

John nodded. “That makes sense. It’s looking more and more like murder, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Tobias got them to the main floor of the precinct and then introduced them to the uniformed cop who would be taking them to the victim’s home. Sherlock and John followed him out the door, and during the ride they stayed silent. When they arrived they saw crime technicians were already there, as was Marcus. “Is this where he died?” Sherlock asked.

Marcus shook his head. “No signs that he died here. But CSU said they found something interesting.” He led the way into the victim’s residence, and then he talked to a technician, who handed him a bag. Inside the bag were some plant clippings. “One of the techs studied botany in college. Recognized this as water hemlock, which is what killed the vic according to you and to the autopsy.”

Sherlock took the bag and looked at it. “Why would he have water hemlock clippings?” he murmured.

“No clue,” Marcus said with a shrug. “But it looks like the stems were damaged. That's where the poison is, right?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “Easily enough to kill a man, judging from the length and amount of stems.”

“So maybe they belonged to the roommate?” John suggested.

“Perhaps,” he said, whipping out his phone. He pulled up his cousin’s number and hit send. The moment Holmes answered Sherlock spoke. “The water hemlock was found here,” he said.

“I was just about to speak to Harrington. I just got done talking with Melinda. She has a solid alibi of being in discussions with a teacher about her thesis from four in the afternoon to nine yesterday evening.”

“It was sap from the water hemlock stems. He easily could have extricated it and put it into something that was ingested by the victim.”

“Seems as though this will be more of an open and shut case than originally expected,” Holmes said.

“Perhaps. Tell me what you find out,” Sherlock replied before hanging up. He turned to John and Marcus. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to search both bedrooms,” he said.

Marcus nodded. “Sure. Grab a set of gloves and have at it.”

Sherlock and John went to one of the technicians and each got a pair of gloves. They then put the gloves on and went to Aaron’s bedroom, searching the room thoroughly. Then they went to the other bedroom, and within moments Sherlock found something. He flipped through a stack of letters, written in a flowery handwriting, and scanned them quickly. “John, come here.”

“What is it?” John asked, setting down the box he’d been looking at.

“These are love letters, written by an MC. They are fairly explicit.”

“Could they be from Melinda?”

Sherlock picked up another letter and scanned it. “Possibly. MC mentions that they feel guilty, and they think that their boyfriend knows. So Harrington was involved with a woman already in a relationship.”

“It’s looking more and more like the roommate is guilty,” John said.

Sherlock set the letters down and then went to the kitchen. He looked at all the things in the drawers and found a syringe. He picked it up in his gloved fingers. "This needs to be tested and dusted for fingerprints," he said to a nearby technician, who nodded.

“What are you thinking?” Marcus asked.

“I think the hemlock was extracted here in the home. It was taken for the intent of being used to murder someone, but the question becomes who wanted to murder whom.” He nodded back to the roommate’s room. “I have two theories about this, but I need to know what was in the syringe and who used it to confirm it.”

“What are your theories?” John asked.

“Harrington also knew what water hemlock looked like, collected it and extracted the poison from the stems, and put it into something that the victim ingested to clear the way for a romance with O’Brien’s girlfriend.”

“Or?” Marcus asked.

“O’Brien planned on murdering Harrington for having an affair with his girlfriend, but somehow O’Brien ingested it instead.”

“Either theory makes sense,” John said.

“Yes. Now we just need to wait and see what my cousin finds out. He needs to know about those letters.” Sherlock pulled out his phone again and dialed his cousin, but this time Holmes didn’t pick up. Sherlock hung up and looked at John. “Do you have Ms. Watson’s number?”

“Yeah, why?” John asked, pulling out his phone.

“If he’s going to talk to the roommate he needs to know about the letters, and my cousin isn’t picking up his phone.”

“I’ll call her,” John said. He pulled up Joan’s number and hit send.

She picked up after two rings. “Hello?” she asked.

“Is your Sherlock in interrogation?” John asked before putting the phone on speaker.

“No. He’s on his way to the hospital with Thomas.”

“Why?” Marcus asked, surprised.

“He was poisoned.”

“Was it hemlock?” Sherlock asked.

“Sherlock doesn’t think so,” Joan said. “He’d been complaining of stomach pains before Sherlock got in there, and Sherlock took one look at him and demanded he be taken to the hospital. Then Thomas started hallucinating and convulsing.”

John looked at Sherlock. “I think both your theories may be invalid,” he said.

“You might be right.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Harrington was poisoned with angel’s trumpet,” Holmes said as the others joined him outside of Thomas’s hospital room. “I remembered the particular effects that poison had on the body. When I was younger, friends of mine tried drinking the tea of it for the hallucinogenic effects.”

“Two plant based poisons, both extremely toxic, and two victims?” Sherlock said. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, cousin?”

“The only person not affected with poison who would have knowledge of them is Melinda,” Holmes said. “But she has a solid alibi.”

“How was Harrington poisoned?” Marcus asked.

“He had a bottle of Gatorade with him. I examined the bottle and noticed a small prick in the plastic, as though someone pushed a syringe through before it was opened. He had drank some of the bottle after he was interviewed the first time,” Holmes said.

“We found a syringe at the victim’s home,” John said. “Think it might have been filled with the angel’s trumpet tea?”

“Perhaps,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“I’ll have them search for other syringes,” Tobias said, moving to the side as he got on his phone.

“Is Harrington going to survive?” John asked.

Holmes nodded. “He hadn’t had a lethal amount, and the fact that I knew the symptoms helped. His stomach has been pumped but I believe he’ll be having a bad trip for quite some time.”

“Why would she want them both killed?” Sherlock asked, beginning to pace. “The letters showed she was having a torrid affair with Harrington.”

“Perhaps the spiked Gatorade was supposed to be for O’Brien?” Holmes mused. “Harrington could have possibly grabbed it on his way to the precinct without realizing it was poisoned.”

“But why use two different poisons? Angel’s trumpet doesn’t always kill,” Sherlock said.

“Maybe she wanted to be sure if one didn’t work the other would,” Joan said with a slight shrug.

“What else was in O’Brien’s stomach contents?” John asked.

“Water and quite a bit of apple pie,” Sherlock said, shutting his eyes. Then his eyes blinked open. “We need to see if there was pie at O’Brien’s home.” He went over to Tobias, who had just hung up. “Ask them to search for apple pie as well.”

Tobias sighed and got back on the phone. “Anything else you want me to tell the techs?”

“Run tests on anything that could have been used to brew the angel’s trumpet tea,” Holmes called over. “A kettle, pots, anything like that.”

Tobias nodded. “On it.”

“How can we crack her alibi?” Holmes said as Sherlock came back over to them.

“Her alibi doesn’t matter,” Sherlock pointed out. “If she baked the pie she could have left it in O’Brien’s apartment and he could have eaten it at any point. Or for that matter, she could have left it at her own apartment if he had a key.”

“We need to get into her residence,” Holmes said.

“Get a handwriting sample and see if those letters are from her,” Joan said.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Holmes said with a nod. This time he went over to Tobias, who had just hung up again. “Has Melinda Charles left the precinct yet?”

Tobias shook her head. “I asked her to hang tight while we got Harrington to the hospital.”

“Ask for a handwriting sample, to compare to the notes my cousin found in Harrington’s room.”

“I can go do that right now. What are we looking for?”

“If the handwriting matches, then she was seeing Harrington behind O’Brien’s back. Depending on what is in the letters, that might give her motive.”

“Sherlock didn’t read them?”

“He only skimmed through them,” Holmes said.

“I’ll get the sample sent to the labs, along with the syringe and any other things found at O’Brien’s home. I’ll let you all know what we find out.” Tobias then motioned for Marcus to join him, and the two detectives left the hospital.

“So now what?” John asked.

“Now,” Sherlock said, “we wait.”

\--

Four hours later the four of them and Marcus were all gathered at Melinda Charles’s home, along with a team of CSU technicians. They were still waiting for the results on the contents of the syringe and the fingerprints on it, but the evidence found at her home was damning. There was a half-eaten apple pie in the trash, and on the rooftop of the apartment complex there was a greenhouse, and inside was angel’s trumpet. It appeared that some of the plant had been cut off, and the CSU techs were currently swabbing anything in her home where she could have brewed the angel’s trumpet tea.

There was also more evidence of her affair with Harrington, with a small shrine built to the relationship in her bedroom. It was very clear to everyone that Harrington’s poisoning might not have been accidental when Holmes found her diary. She had detailed the end of her relationship with Harrington and the pending end of her relationship with O’Brien, once Harrington told him the truth.

“The woman is crazy,” Joan said before whistling slightly after Holmes read the latest diary entry. “Poisoning two men because neither of them wanted to date her?”

“If she couldn’t have them no one could, apparently,” Sherlock said as he continued to poke around the room. “That is one of the reasons I avoid romantic entanglements.”

“You and me both,” Marcus said. “I’ve dated my share of crazies in the past, and that was enough for me.”

Holmes smiled slightly as he closed the diary and put it into an evidence bag. “I’ll admit there would be some trepidation in starting a relationship once you’ve decided to do what we do.”

“Says the man who’s rekindling an old flame,” Sherlock said with a smirk.

“Yes, well, I know Irene can be manipulative but I can also vouch for the fact that she is not criminally insane,” Holmes said as he handed the bag to a technician. “I sincerely doubt she would go to such lengths to snuff out my life if our relationship goes south.”

“I suppose you do have a point,” Sherlock said with a nod. “So now what?”

“Our part is done,” Holmes said. “Tobias has been informed of what we’ve found, and he’ll be bringing Melinda Charles back into interrogation. We can watch, but there isn’t much more for us to do.”

“I think I would like to watch that particular interrogation,” John said. 

“Then we’ll head back to the precinct and watch,” Holmes said with a nod.

“I can give all of you a ride,” Marcus said. “I’m headed back there anyway.”

“Thank you,” Holmes said with a nod. The five of them left the apartment as the technicians continued to work. It didn’t take very long to get back to the precinct. When they got there they saw an ambulance there. “What’s going on?”

“She figured out we knew it was her,” Tobias said. “She’d poisoned something she’d brought with her, and she ingested it.”

“Did she survive?” Joan asked, her eyes wide.

Tobias shook his head. “She was already dead when I went back into the interrogation room.”

“I suppose the prospect of living with the consequences of her actions was too much,” Sherlock murmured.

“Guess so,” Tobias said. “If you’ll excuse me, the doctors said Harrington’s hallucinations have stopped. I’m going to go inform him of what happened before I go tell O’Brien’s parents. Come with me, Marcus.” Marcus came up to him, and then they left together.

“That didn’t end quite the way I would have expected,” John said.

“Sometimes it doesn’t end so neatly,” Holmes said quietly. The four of them stood there for a moment. “I suppose you’ll want to go home now, Sherlock.”

“I was told to ask this morning if you would want to spend more time with me,” Sherlock said. “John has decided to extend his stay to get to know his own cousin better, and it was thought perhaps you would like me to stay longer as well.”

“That could be nice,” Holmes said with a nod. “There has been a lot that has happened in the last few years that we could catch up on.”

“Then you would like me to stay?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, cousin, I would,” Holmes replied.

“Very well then,” Sherlock said. “I suppose we can start by getting lunch?”

“There’s a great Thai place by our house,” Joan said. “I’ll even treat.”

“I can’t say no to a free lunch,” Holmes said with a slight grin. “Lead the way, Joan.” And with that, the four of them left the precinct, glad to leave the case behind them.


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock and John stayed another week. During that week the two cousins got to know each other better, and for the first time in either of their adult lives there was no competition, no drama. Sherlock assisted on a second case before he returned to London, and when he arrived home he found Mycroft waiting for him in a chair in the common room. “Sherlock,” Mycroft said.

“Hello to you too, dear brother,” Sherlock said as he deposited his suitcase near the hallway to his room. As long as his brother was there he wasn’t going to get to escape to his room, so he hung his garment bag on the coat rack. “What do you want?”

“Is it true that Irene Adler is alive?” he asked, steepling his fingers together.

“Yes, but I could have told you that years ago. She will not cause you any more problems, if that’s what concerns you. She’s out of the secret gathering game now.”

“That’s good to hear.” He looked up as John came in. “How is our cousin?”

“Other than still angry at you for lying to him and sending him on the downward spiral and nearly causing him to lose his consulting position? Fairly well. He’s happy now.”

“How was it my fault he nearly lost his consulting position?” Mycroft asked.

“Because you told him Moriarty had killed Irene. When Sebastian Moran crossed his path, he reacted more violently than he would have if you’d simply told him what the government believed to be the truth, that she had been killed by terrorists.” He crossed his arms and stared at his brother. “In fact, most of his problems regarding his addiction and vendetta can be laid at your feet.”

“I will not accept the blame for his addictions,” Mycroft said.

“You should still accept the blame for Moran,” John said as he went into the kitchen.

Mycroft was quiet. “Fine. I will accept the blame for that.”

“Why did you tell him Moriarty had killed Irene, anyway?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Because he still had a romanticized view of her, and it was a small lie. If he was angry at one man who was already dead instead of a faceless terrorist organization, maybe he could put it behind him better.”

“You miscalculated greatly, Mycroft,” Sherlock said. “Starting with the fact you neglected to tell him Moriarty was already dead.”

“I will admit, I made some poor choices,” Mycroft conceded.

“That’s an understatement,” John said from the kitchen.

“Pass my apologies on to him,” Mycroft said as he stood up.

“Pass on your own apologies,” Sherlock said. “Though I do have something from him for you.”

“Oh?” Mycroft said as he got closer.

Sherlock nodded, then pulled back his fist and slugged his brother across the face. Mycroft took the punch well, but Sherlock had hit him hard enough that he knew Mycroft would have a black eye later. “That came with this message: don’t meddle in his life again.”

“Let him know his message was received,” Mycroft said, fixing his suit jacket for a moment before leaving the home.

“That must have felt bloody great,” John said with a slight smirk.

“You have no idea,” Sherlock murmured.

“So what now?” John asked, going back to making the tea he had started when he went into the kitchen.

“Well, I go back to my life here, he starts a new chapter in his life in New York, and we keep in contact more. Neither of us wants another estrangement,” He rubbed the knuckles of the hand he had hit Mycroft with gently. “I believe I need some ice.”

“I’ll get some for you,” John said with a nod. “Joan said they might come out here to visit us soon. She wants to meet Harry and my mum and dad.”

“That could be nice,” Sherlock said with a nod. “Hopefully there won’t be a case for all of us to solve.”

“I don’t know. I think the four of us worked well together,” John said as he went to the refrigerator.

“Perhaps. But I doubt Lestrade would want the headache.”

“I suppose not.” John pulled out a tray and got Sherlock some ice, putting it in a plastic bag. “It’s good to be home though.”

“Yes, it is good to be home.”

\--

“So he’s gone back to London?” Irene asked Holmes as she poured him some tea.

He nodded. “He should have arrived by now.” He took the cup she offered and took a sip. “I told him to punch Mycroft in the face if he got a chance.”

Irene chuckled as she poured her own cup. “I would like to see that.”

“To be honest I’d rather be doing the punching,” Holmes said with a slight smile. “His lie led to quite a few things in my life that I look on with regret.”

“But it’s in the past now, so that’s good,” she replied.

“Joan wants to go visit them later this year,” Holmes said. “I think it could be interesting.”

“Yes, it could be,” she said with a nod.

“Do you miss London?”

“Sometimes,” she said with a nod. “Perhaps I can integrate myself into this city a bit more. I do miss the hustle and bustle of a busy city.”

“That would be good,” Holmes said. “You have a nice home, but there are things I would like to do with you that require you to leave your home.”

“Maybe someday we can go on an actual date,” she said with a smile. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve done that, and I’ll admit while I didn’t miss it much I think with you it would be different.”

“I’ll try and make it enjoyable.” He took another sip of his tea. “Joan has agreed to be my partner. I’m going to start her training soon.”

“That’s good,” Irene replied. “I think she’ll be a good influence on you. She’ll keep you on the straight and narrow path.”

“Yes, I believe she will.”

She looked at him. “I have a question for you, Sherlock.”

“Yes?”

“Did you ever think I loved your cousin?”

“To be honest I didn’t know if you did, but I had rather hoped you hadn’t,” he said. “If you loved any man named Sherlock Holmes I wanted it to be me. I was greedy and selfish that way.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” she said with a smile. She set down her cup and reached over to touch his face gently. “I do love you, Sherlock.”

“And I you,” he said.

She removed her hand and took his cup of tea, setting it down next to hers. “Perhaps I can show you,” she said quietly.

“Are you going to kiss me, Irene?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she said. “And hopefully that will lead to more, but if it doesn’t, that’s fine.” She leaned in and pressed her lips against his. The kiss stayed soft and tender for only a brief moment before he pulled her closer. She smiled against his lips slightly when he deepened the kiss. When they pulled apart a few moments later to breathe, she rested her forehead against his. “So, what’s your next move?”

“I believe it’s time for us to adjourn to the bedroom,” he said with a slight grin on his face.

“That sounds like a very good plan,” she said, standing up.

He quickly followed suit. “Tell me, do you still have your handcuffs?”

“Among other things,” she said with a nod. “I believe tonight will be quite enjoyable for the both of us.” And with that, she offered him her hand and led to way to her room. And she was right, in the end: it _was_ a very enjoyable night, and a good start to their newfound future together.


End file.
